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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman  3/6/2015 7:39:31 PM
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Run Away

When the day comes that I must die
Run, just run away, when I've breathed my last
Don't stay and stab your eyes,
Run for sanctuary, run for peace;
Peace returns the day after next.

When I've departed and left you solitary
Run away, just find some other eyes,
Don't stay and lose another day
From this life, weeping for me;
Sanity is just around the corner.

When darkness comes to cover your days
Run, to any happiness you remember,
Don't give in, don't give up the fight;
Cause you're fighting for us all-
And there's nothing you can't conquer.

(written to Ghost of a Rose by Blackmores Night)
Patti Masterman



Some Ruff Conversation

I went for a walk in the meadow
And spied an old dog in the hay;
Now old dogs know old tricks much better-
And none is so tricky, as they.

I walked close, to peek at him sleeping
But nary a word would I say;
Cause when old dogs are sleeping dogs, dreaming-
Well it's better to let sleeping dogs lay.

I left him un-bothered and sleeping,
I left him passed out in the hay,
And went on my way, till the night time-
And hope every dog had his own day.

And should every day have it's own dog,
In this dog-eat-dog world where we be,
Just remember who lies down with dogs
Is bound to get back up with fleas.
Patti Masterman



Tale of the Red Witch

Was a rose red dawn, on the blood red day
That we burnt the witch, on bales of hay;
Her hair so red, it blinded men,
And made them think of supple sin;
And ivory flesh, and flashing green
Of angered eyes; that mind so keen.
From sunset's red, the harbor gleamed;
From her stone words, no truth to glean-
They stood her, lashed her to the beam
And lit the blaze, and watched it spread;
It climbed up toward her brackish eyes,
She wept and called out, toward the skies
To save her; now her iron will broke
As on the fumes, began to choke;
No word would say, to silence those
Who her last agony, happly chose-
But now upon the pain of death,
She swore a stack of bibles that
She was no witch; she had no pact
And as her tender flesh was racked,
She slumped as though her life had fled
And stayed there till seemed truly dead.
Just dead enough, she looked to be,
So they cut her loose, the savaged tree
And laid her on the harbor's wood-
A few were weeping; wished they would
Have dowsed the fire, or saved her soul.
Before the embers had grown cold
They left her there alone that night
For to bury, at morning's light.
Morning came, with a wild surprise:
The dawn redder, than last night's fire
The wind had red rust, in it's breath
As if from guilt too, at her death
And fierce gusts lashed their trembling homes
And moaned, as if a thousand crones
Were flying over land and bay,
Wondering where their sister lay.
Then stray fires came, to eat their town:
Every structure burnt to ground.
One man went, to the Red Witch grave,
For no one else would be as brave;
He came back, pale as sun bleached bones;
Said her body was quite gone,
She was missing from the hole-
It opened wide, and nothing there,
And then they felt, as if a stare
Were piercing them, from up above
And looked up then, to see the dove
With whitest breast, and brackish eyes;
It flew three circles, way up high,
Then flew off then, to who knows where-
For doves were only rare, seen there.
And the sky, blood red, bled out it's soul
As heaven paid the sorry toll.
Beware the Red Witch; she's the worst:
For nothing known can lift her curse.
Patti Masterman



Aim for the Moon

Aim for the moon
And land among clouds;
High above earth,
You can still be proud.

Aim for the moon,
The sun or the stars;
Your friends will be angels,
On journeys, afar.

Aim for the moon-
Not aiming's the sin;
For you'll never travel
If you don't here, begin.
Patti Masterman
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Poems By Poet Patti Masterman